


Once more for the folks in the back

by Pinepitch



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Boys In Love, Drug Abuse, EXO have to learn to be their parents, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Angst, Human Experimentation, It's fucked up, Kinda, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Superpowers, coping with loss, like actual children, seventeen are children, there's some sad shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-02-01 19:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 17,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12711141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinepitch/pseuds/Pinepitch
Summary: Here's the low-down:12 kids were takenOnly 9 walked away7 years later, and now more are disappearingCan they stop it this time?He remembers being scared, holding his knees to his chest and refusing to talk to any of the others. They had done their best, but he was so, so scared. Of himself. Until a little hand snuck into his and a pair of big brown eyes had caught his. They had been nervous.“I can move faster than your fire,” Jongin had said sincerely.“But I can’t,” had been Chanyeol’s reply.Also I'm horrendous at summaries. Exo have superpowers (think MAMA AU) and try to save kids like no one saved them. First few chapters based off the 'Pathcode' teasers.Based on these two trailers because I'm an angsty piece of shit:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8kKcF5ejvghttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6UFAkM1bpDo





	1. Seoul, October, 1994

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first crack at an EXO fic - I'd love to know what you think. I'm really crap at updating, but with the help of a housemate, hopefully I'll be badgered enough that it'll happen. If you wanna comment, that'd be grand.

_Seoul, October, 1994_

 

The line of boys trembled, the youngest still a new baby and the oldest bravely clutching the hands of two others, despite not being older than four. Chubby cheeks pinched in unhappiness, Minseok refused to cry, and the last of his tears had dried long before they left the small children’s home he’d lived in his whole life. He couldn’t understand what was going on, but he knew that there were eleven little boys with him, and that he would have to look after them. The building they were in was cold, cracked concrete surrounding them. There was nothing on the walls, and the door they’d come through was speckled with rot.

“They’re not much to look at, are they?” A woman’s voice cut through the silence.

The women Minseok had known were rounded, kindly ones that let him stand next to them whilst they cooked only scolding him slightly when holding onto their skirts became a hindrance. This woman was all sorts of pointed angles and shrewd gaze that made him feel like he’d done something wrong. If he weren’t holding the hands of a toddler named Jongdae and a confused Chinese boy named Yixing, his thumb would have snaked to his mouth in comfort.

“They’re not even children, Juseok,” she bemoaned of the man next to her.

He bent down and inspected each of them, catching his thumb on Minseok’s quivering chin.

“They’re _my_ children,” he replied, “and I’m going to raise them as such.”


	2. Seoul, October, 2008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After one of them dies, Minseok decides he's had enough and the remaining 9 need to leave in order to survive.

_Seoul, October, 2008_

 

Jongdae was crying. He was bent over the boy on the floor, shaking him and sobbing and just _begging_.

“Luhan, Luhan _please,_ ” he pleaded.

Tears tracked down his face, and his grip on the other boy was absolute, even as a stony-faced Minseok did his best to tug him away.

“Dae,” he croaked. “C’mon.”

Jongdae still refused to move, and three others had to crowd around, peeling him off. Once he was firmly in their grasp, Yixing bent down, feeling for a breath, a pulse, any sign of life. Minseok was still standing there, face impassive.

“He’s - he’s not - “ Sehun tried to choke out, his face scrunching up. Unable to bear the tension in the room, Minseok left, slamming his hand onto the reader. It opened the door for him, and the others watched him go, all with worried looks on their faces. None of them wanted to contemplate how it would affect him if Luhan had - if Luhan had died. The second eldest, both Luhan and Minseok had taken it on themselves to look after everyone, especially after Kris died.

Now left as the oldest in the room, Joonmyun swallowed heavily and spoke lowly to Yixing.

“Is he dead?” his tone was barely audible.

Yixing’s only response was a slight nod. There was no big explosion of emotion from any of them. The eight boys in the room crowded together as Yixing stood back up to join them. It was a scene they recognised from before, but never as ghastly as this. Where Jongdae’s lightning had touched him, his skin was charred black, his eyes whited out by a cloudy film. Luhan’s mouth was open slightly, in a silent show of surprise. But he looked so ordinary to them, the tattoo marking him as one of them visible on his forearm, the same grey t-shirt and striped cotton pants they all wore to bed clothing him.

 

An alarm went off.

 

The boys all scrambled back into their beds in a rushed silence, stifling sobs of shock and sorrow. They all held their breath as the door opened, Dr. Choi Juseok entering and sighing.

“It’s another one,” he muttered to the three guards that followed him into the room. Without a word, one of them scooped up Luhan, wrinkling his nose at the smell of burned hair and skin.

“Jesus, one of them must’ve done this to him,” Choi hissed. “I thought letting them all board together would be a good thing, but maybe not…”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” it was Minseok, a fire in his eyes.

“What are you getting so upset about, Minseok?” the doctor asked. “Surely it would be better to focus your efforts on tomorrow’s classes, rather than being up this late.”

“Don’t take his body.”

“You expect us to leave it rotting on the floor of the dorm? I think not.”

“I expect you to be a decent human being for once and give him a proper burial.”

“And what else would we do?”

“You’d incinerate him. Like you did Kris. Like you did _Tao,_ ” he spat.

The others still were too scared to make a move, but a small gasp slid out of Junmyeon at these words. Tao had disappeared when he was only just six years old, and never seen again. Junmyeon had suspected that Minseok knew where he’d gone, but the other boy had been adamant that he’d been left with a good family in Prague. He slammed his eyes shut again and hoped and prayed he’d fallen asleep and was going to wake up to this being a nightmare.

“He was weak, Kim Minseok. Are you weak?” still, the doctor had a calm level to his voice that wouldn’t betray the horrifying monster underneath.

“No,” he almost whispered. “I’m not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know posting twice in one day is excessive, but enjoy it whilst it lasts.


	3. Arizona, July, 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chanyeol has a hard life. Also Jongin doesn't make things easier.

_Arizona, July, 2015_

 

He was tired. He was _exhausted_. His hands were blistered and all he wanted was to go to sleep. His apartment complex didn’t exactly loom over him. It more...squatted uncomfortably - an ugly collection of basic living quarters that he could actually afford. Passing through the door and up to his own apartment, he stuffed his key into the lock, turning it just as Mrs. Beaves from next door came out. He kept his head down and nodded stiffly at the old woman. It was unlikely that she was going to be the one to turn him in, but best not to take chances.

The apartment was dark. It was a little depressing, coming home every day to the darkness that barely dissipated with the lights he flicked on. In the kitchen, there was no one else there, and he shouldn’t have been as sad as he was. The same for the living room that shared the space. Chanyeol hated darkness, and flicked every single light on, not caring about the energy bill it would incur. It reminded him of someone, and the few memories he couldn’t bear to let go of.

In his bedroom, there was a map. It took up one wall and was scattered with blue dots. The occasional one had been covered over with a red sticker. There were no lights in this room. Not because the landlord and builders had lost patience at this point, but because he couldn’t bear to think about anyone he might miss. It would only end in tragedy. It was no matter though, a few swipes of his hands had the dozens of candles flaring to life. He wondered if tonight would be the night he would be lucky enough to go up in flames. He wondered if it would kill him. The map seemed to flicker with patterns connecting the dots. He walked over to it, yawning and brushing his hair away from his face.

“And who are _you_ ?” He whispered to a picture trapped under a candle on the sideboard next to his bed. It was the latest in a pile stuffed into his bedside drawer. His own scribble across the top read _Yoon Jeonghan_. But that meant jack shit to him. It was just a name. He had to know why a kid with such an angelic face, not possibly older than ten, went missing from a family picnic. He had stood up to put garbage in the bin, watched the entire time by his mother, and in a literal blink of an eye, he was gone.

Frustrated by this, Chanyeol groaned. He was too tired for this shit. He kicked off his trousers and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing them on the floor. Crawling under his covers, he sleepily resolved to shower, clean, and find the missing child in the morning. All the candles were left burning.

 

* * *

Working on a demolition site wasn’t what Chanyeol wanted to be doing, but it was better than nothing, and it kept him out of the public eye. The entirety of his job was moving blocks of rubble from the site and putting them in the back of a van. He could’ve lived without the five am start to his morning, and when his alarm went off, he would rather have thrown himself off the nearest mesa than get up. Unfortunately, his survival instincts were too strong, and he rolled out of bed, noting regrettably that all the candles had burned out without so much as scorching the furniture.

His shower felt cold. Everything felt cold to him this morning, and he noted that he might have to take a trip out to the bonfire pit he’d set up, just outside of town. Nevertheless, he scrubbed himself clean, despite the goosebumps pimpling all over his body. A run of some basic shampoo and conditioner through his hair, and he was ready. He stepped out of the glass that had been fogged up with steam, and tossed a towel over his head and around his waist.

 

Something moved.

 

Chanyeol’s head whipped around, following where he could have sworn he heard something in the kitchen. Something clattered to the floor, followed by a whispered curse. He ran into the kitchen, but there was no one there. The only sign that anything had happened was his plastic water bottle, previously on the counter, now on it’s side, leaking onto the floor.

“Hello?” called Chanyeol.

No response. He hadn’t really expected one though. The place wasn’t exactly big enough for someone to hide, and there was clearly no one there. Thinking he must have imagined it, Chanyeol tried to shrug it off and head back to his room, but the feeling of not being alone stuck under his skin. He changed into his heavy-duty work clothes, and shut the door, making sure to lock it on his way out.

* * *

By the time he reached work, Chanyeol had all but forgotten about the mystery of the water bottle that morning, and threw himself into his work, hauling twice the amount of rubble he usually would, and earning approving looks from his boss. As the sun rose over the valley, he only felt colder and colder, and found himself shivering in the noonday heat.

“Chanyeol, go have your break,” the boss said.

“I’m fine, I’ll just finish this pile,” he responded, grunting.

If he stopped moving, he was worried he’d get colder, and as it was, his fingertips felt like they were going to fall off. What he needed most was to head out to the plains beyond town, and settle in for a night next to his bonfire.

“Chanyeol, that break is a legal requirement by law. Take it.”

His boss peered closer at him.

“On second thought, take the day. You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” Chanyeol argued.

He really couldn’t afford to lose a day’s wage.

“You are hotter than the surface of the sun, and you should get something to take that fever down.”

“Why, Jeffrey,” he replied through the haze descending over him, “you flatter me.”

“Go home, Park. You’re sick. You got a girlfriend to look after you?”

Chanyeol shook his head no.

“Hell, a boyfriend, a best friend? _Anyone_?”

Another shake of the head.

“You poor S-O-B. Well go home anyhow. Gimme a call if you think you’re gonna die and I’ll get the Mrs to bring some soup over,” his boss answered gruffly.

Chanyeol was astonished. He knew his boss was a good man, but even a display of affection as basic as making sure he was going to survive was foreign to him.

“Thanks, Jeff.” He mumbled. As the cold feeling crept through his veins, he thought leaving might actually be a good idea.

* * *

He ran home.

 

Actually _ran._ His head was pounding and his vision started whiting out, but he had this horrible idea of what would happen if he didn’t get home, get changed, and get out of town. He’d’ve gone in his work clothes if he could afford to replace them, but as it was, he couldn’t. He took the steps up to his floor three at a time, almost passing out in the process. He tried to push through the door but remembered it was locked and fumbled with his keys.

Somehow, some, incredibly, confusing, inexplicable way, the sight of the man with his legs crossed on his sofa was enough to shock him out of his increasing state of sickness. At least partially.

“Hey, Chanyeol,” the man said, sitting up. “I didn’t think you’d be home this early.”

Chanyeol gasped in surprise before the anger caught up.

“What the _fuck_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T JUDGE ME FOR POSTING A LOT IN ONE DAY BECAUSE I'LL PROBABLY FORGET TO DO IT AGAIN.


	4. Arizona, July, 2015 (cont.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chanyeol catches fire  
> Jongin stops everything else form catching fire too  
> (I promise it'll be fluffier and faster when everyone is back together)

_Arizona, July, 2015_

 

“Hyung…”

Jongin was watching Chanyeol warily, clearly uncertain about what he was going to do. Chanyeol, meanwhile, was trying to reconcile the idea of seeing his long-lost friend with his tiny, grubby apartment. Plus, the fact he felt like he was going to explode didn’t help as an icy feeling localised around his heart. He shook his head and tried to clear it.

“I’ve got to take care of something,” he grumbled, pacing into his bedroom.

He didn’t want to admit the way his heart leapt when he saw Jongin. He didn’t want to admit how good and easy it felt to slip in Hangul with his friend. Instead, he stumbled into his bedroom, pulling off his shirt before bracing himself on the sideboard with shaking arms. There was a knock at the door.

“Chanyeol-hyung?” the voice seeped through the thin door, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, voice about as steady as a sailboat in a hurricane.

The knocking ceased and he thought Jongin might have left. But he couldn’t check because he had to _leave._ If he didn’t, worse things than his friend showing up would happen. He pulled a shirt over his head and slid into a pair of sweatpants. Shoes weren’t necessary. Something happened. It was a pop of noise so painfully familiar that he felt like he was fifteen again, curled up as small as he possibly could be in a metal chair as he waited for his turn. He shut his eyes as his vision began to cloud over again.

“Leave,” Chanyeol commanded without turning around.

He peeled his eyes back open and his vision was almost completely white.

“How long has it been.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Leave,” he repeated.

“How. Long.”

The conversation was making him feel like everything was spinning, his heart pumping that ice around his body so unbelievably fast that he knew the clock had run out. He would have tried to siphon some of it off on the many candles dotted around his room, but it was much too dangerous at this point. He couldn’t even open his mouth to answer Jongin.

“Jesus, hyung,” Jongin hissed, and a hand was placed on his forearm.

Chanyeol wanted to protest, insisting that they didn’t both have to die, but he couldn’t find the words, barely even conscious as he felt his whole world shift.

* * *

 _He remembers being scared, holding his knees to his chest and refusing to talk to any of the others. They had done their best, but he was so,_ so _scared. Of himself. Until a little hand snuck into his and a pair of big brown eyes had caught his. They had been nervous._

_“I can move faster than your fire,” Jongin had said sincerely._

_“But I can’t,” had been Chanyeol’s reply._

* * *

He woke up in flames. Not that _he_ was in flames, rather the whole world appeared to be from where he was flat on his back. They licked up the sparse shrubbery that surrounded him. For a brief second, Chanyeol was so confused even as to _who_ he was, let alone _where_ , that this worry overrode any fear at the imminent danger. Then there was a cough, and his entire view became sharper and more focussed than it had been in days - weeks, maybe. He rolled onto his front and pushed himself up to standing. A few feet away, Jongin was on his hands and knees, coughing through the smoke. Chanyeol gave an experimental huff of breath. It was a bit scratchy, but really not awful. Nevertheless, he swiped the fire out with a single hand gesture. Then he felt a little bad. If it hadn’t all been his, then he couldn’t have put it out.

“Are you okay?” he queried Jongin, who was slowly rising to his feet.

“I’m fine,” he panted. “Really fucking thirsty, but fine.”

“Good,” Chanyeol let his anger seep in. “So why the fuck are you in Arizona in the first place?”

“Aww, you know, I really love the boiling weather you can’t escape, the howling demons from hell at night, and the plants that try to give you acupuncture. Seemed like a good place for a little getaway,” Jongin’s tone was heavily sarcastic, even through his parched state.

“Jongin…” Chanyeol’s tone held a warning note.

“I came to find you, obviously,” he spat.

Or he would’ve. If his mouth wasn’t so dry.

“Yah, but _why_.”

“Because kids are disappearing, and I think you know something about it. And you’re fucking lucky I was there, because normal people probably wouldn’t have survived that whole ‘exploding into a fireball thing’.”

Chanyeol had figured this would probably happen sooner or later. He was hoping later. Staring around at the ash strewn ground around him, he wanted to shout that it wasn’t his fault, that if Jongin hadn’t put him so on edge, surprised him quite so much, he wouldn’t have been such an absolute mess and a literal fire hazard. But he didn’t say any of this because his brain was just catching up to the fact that Jongin was _here._

“Thanks,” was what he managed. “For not letting me explode the town or anything.”

It felt strange not to be angry at his friend. He’d spent so long being angry at all of them, and missing every single one of them fiercely, that just being flat out _grateful_ was an unfamiliar thing.

“You’re welcome,” was the muttered reply, Jongin looking just as awkward as Chanyeol felt.

What do you say to someone after seven years?

What do you say when the last time you saw them, you wished you’d never met?

“You’re not gonna be able to pull any tricks for a while, are you?” was what Chanyeol chose.

Not exactly what he thought it would be.

But Jongin laughed, so there’s that.

“At least not until I get some water in me.”

Chanyeol looked around, glad to recognise they weren’t far out of town - it would only be a twenty minute walk back to his. What he wasn’t happy about was the potential for anyone to have witnessed what just happened.

* * *

Settled on Chanyeol’s sofa with a tall glass of water and a sandwich, Jongin looked right at home. He chewed through the food, taking his time with it, whilst Chanyeol had placed himself in the chair in the corner, elbows resting on his knees and hands curled under his chin. He didn’t want to rush the boy, but he _did_ want answers. It seemed like forever before the last bit of crust disappeared between his lips and he chewed, swallowed, and appeared ready to talk. Jongin had always been a bit like this - once everyone knew he had a point to make, the point itself could actually wait until he was good and ready to share it.

“So…” Chanyeol prompted, “you came to find me about the disappearing children because…?”

Jongin grinned.

“Because we’re gonna get them back. And we’re gonna need all of us to do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a mess, just like me. I welcome comments (PLEASE COMMENT). Also I chose updating over doing university work, so clearly I have my priorities sorted. I'm gonna take a nap now.


	5. Berlin, October, 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minseok is a mess. A high mess, a hot mess, a mess.  
> Also there's no romance yet but you wait, YOU WAIT. THERE IS A PLAN FOR INCREDIBLE ANGSTY ROMANCE. Ummm also drug abuse trigger warning.

_Berlin, October, 2015_

 

He was almost hit by a car tonight, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He swung his body back and forth in time to the music blasting through his headphones. Swerving onto the little avenue where he lived, he hopped off his skateboard and plucked it off of the ground. Whatever he had taken at that party had his head feeling like it was floating off his shoulders. His building came into sight, and he pushed through the broken door that someone was always promising would be fixed by next week. He passed some other poor sod on the stairs that was just beginning his day at five am.

His studio was barely even that. He didn’t have a bed. He had a sofa, a TV, and one side table. The carpet was something he’d picked up at the dump, really cheap. His feet were always cold, and the building didn’t have any central heating. He couldn’t have cared less - the cold reminded him of the fact he was persistently, cruelly, alive. Once he had the TV on, white noise of the latest news blaring from it, he removed his headphones. He ignored the scuffling in the kitchenette to his right.

 _It’s a rat_ , he told himself. _It’s just a rat_.

“Are you pretending I don’t exist now?” Luhan asked, leaning over the counter and staring at him.

Minseok turned the TV up louder.

“How rude,” huffed Luhan, turning back to whatever he was doing in the kitchen. “I should get a different roommate.”

“You should GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” roared Minseok, standing up.

He felt his fingertips spark with energy. Clearly, this was one of the worst highs he’d ever had, and would not be scoring from Rick again. Luhan just smirked at him from where he had perched on the kitchen counter, one of his charred scars stretching across his cheeks grotesquely in shades of dead, blackened flesh. Somehow, he was still the most beautiful man Minseok had ever seen.

“If you’re not leaving, I am,” he decided.

The skateboard was back in his hands, and he was darting out the door, bouncing off the walls of the hallway, and almost falling down the stairs in his eagerness to leave home. He could feel the high wearing off, but his paranoia of being followed stuck with him. He could have sworn he left a layer of frost all the way out of the building.

On the streets of Berlin, he felt like he could breathe easier, but his heart rate picked up. This place felt so far from the Korea he had emerged into seven years ago that usually the setting could relax him sufficiently, but this morning it was a swirl of dizzying colours as he swerved between the early morning shift workers and homeless people. When he was free from the crowds, he leapt onto the board, rolling as far away from home as he could manage. It was never the refuge he had longed for, and he sought it in other, less savoury places. Turning his head to look back briefly, he saw two more of them, of the _ghosts_ from his past following him. Their faces were confused and elated and -

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” he shrieked.

It was an unfortunate sort of luck that he looked back to his front as a yellow postbox reared up in front of him.

* * *

“High as a fucking kite, look at his arms,” one of the ghosts said.

“Hush, Jongin, it’s not been easy on any of us,” replied the other.

Minseok’s eyes slitted open. He felt wrecked. His head was pounding and his mouth was filled with a feeling like cotton wool. He could feel a new mouth ulcer that had sprung up painfully during his high. He had no doubt that he looked like hell. But he didn’t understand. Why was he still seeing them?

“Go away,” he moaned.

Figuring he needed to sleep this off, he rolled over, and it didn’t occur to him that his face wasn’t then pressed into the musty covering on his sofa.

* * *

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty, time to get up, c’mon,” someone much taller than Minseok was helping him stumble his way to the bathroom. He didn’t look to the side to try and figure out who it was. The pain, he realised, extended down his neck and into his left hand. He moaned incoherently.

“Yah, hyung, three fingers you went and broke.”

“Why are you here? Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Minseok’s voice was miserable, and he tried to raise his ridiculously heavy head.

“Because apparently you being alone equates to drugs and getting intimate with public structures. Now either take your clothes off or I’m doing it for you,” the voice was stern, and Minseok slowly stripped off his shirt and jeans.

Where his coat and hat were was an issue for another time. With his head finally clearing a little, he could see a tub of steaming water in a bathroom that was definitely not his.

“Get in, and I’ll explain,” it was Chanyeol, he was sure of that now.

Gratefully, he slid into the tub, being careful not to knock his fingers on his left hand, the index, middle, and ring finger of which were hurting more with every passing second.

“How are you here?” he begged of Chanyeol, who gently began washing his back with a cloth.

Minseok allowed the ministrations, revelling in the first form of affection from another human he’d felt in seven years. He refused to cry though, and bunched his cheeks up.

“Jongin and I have a plan,” explained the younger man. “Lift your arm, please.”

His voice was soft and soothing. Minseok had never known Chanyeol like this. He’d always been kind, but previously a little reserved and quiet. Even the awful comedown he was experiencing seemed to melt away under his careful cleaning of Minseok.

“But how are you _here_?” Minseok asked. “Am I still high?”

“No, hyung, you’re not. We were worried you weren’t going to wake up for a while there though. Jongin’s gone off to try and find Yixing and bring him to you. We’re in some hotel he found. It’s pretty nice, actually.”

“But you’re all _dead_ ,” Minseok choked out.

There was barely a break in the motions of the other boy.

“You’re filthy, hyung. When was the last time you washed?” was the only response.

Minseok didn’t tell him that he couldn’t remember. Then he realised something as his head rang slightly.

“Where are my headphones?” he squawked, forgetting all about his confusion at this very strange and completely unexpected situation.

“They’re in the other room.”

“I need them here, and my iPod. _Now_ ,” he could already feel the buzzing beginning in his head.

“They’ll get wet, hyung,” Chanyeol said calmly, continuing to wipe down his chest.

Minseok grew more agitated, tensing up until Chanyeol couldn’t take it.

“I can - I can sing to you, if that would help?”

Minseok nodded tersely. It was better than nothing. The younger man began singing something from the radio. An American pop song with a catchy beat and a rap in the middle that Chanyeol actively put the flannel down to rap to. It made Minseok want to smile. That was strange, he hadn’t wanted to smile in a long time.

* * *

Once he was clean to Chanyeol’s satisfaction, and his hair had been washed and combed, he was wrapped in a fluffy towel and told to wait on the bed until Jongin came back with clothes for him because “you’re are not getting back into those filthy things, hyung. I refuse”. He examined his fingers - blue and purple bruising up to the wrist and unable to move, he figured Chanyeol was right, they were probably broken. That kind of sucked since he couldn’t very well march into any medical centre.

“So when are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Minseok asked, watching Chanyeol lean against the wall of the hotel room.

“Once everyone is here.”

“Everyone?”

“All nine of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently the fact I have filming to do tomorrow and other such important things means nothing to me, as it's now almost 3 am, and I am clearly very awake. I make no apologies for this shitshow of a chapter.


	6. Lyon, October, 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baekhyun gets a surprise visit from...an old friend?  
> Also he's an adorable TA that just wants the best for his students.

_Lyon, October, 2015_

 

Baekhyun hefted the pile of papers and walked between the desks, distributing them between the students.

“Monsieur Byun is handing out your worksheets, and you will have the rest of the class to complete them. Anything you do not finish, I expect to be taken as homework,” Marc instructed.

Baekhyun took his place at the back of the room, next to an anxious looking boy. He had been working with Seungkwan for a little over four months now, and knew that he could be the brightest and bubbliest of little boys, but that learning French did his head in.

“Hello, Boo,” he greeted him, using his surname as was usual for the school.

“Monsieur Byun,” Seungkwan smiled.

“How is the work sheet?” Baekhyun continued in French.

Seungkwan’s brow wrinkled in concentration.

“The - work - is… the work is - much - difficult,” he stuttered, blushing when he finished his sentence.

“Well done! Although ‘very’ works better than ‘much’,” Baekhyun supplied in Hangul.

“Thank you, Hyung,” Seungkwan nodded his head before switching back to French. “The work is very difficult.”

“Excellent, now, let’s try and get through this before class ends, shall we?”

* * *

As students filed out of the room, Baekhyun stopped Seungkwan and asked him to stay behind. Speaking only in Hangul, he wanted to reassure the boy that looked like he could cry at the end of every class.

“Boo-ah, how are you?”

“I’m very well, thank you, Byun-ssi.”

“You can still call me hyung - you’re not in trouble.”

“Thank you, Hyung,” Seungkwan’s smile was back.

“Boo, you need to understand that learning a language is hard. It’s incredibly difficult, and a good many people never learn more than the one they were born with.”

“I know,” but he still looked downcast.

Sometimes, when he wasn’t really looking at Seungkwan, he thought he saw a flicker of shadow, a slip of something potentially sinister in his pupil. It made him worried, and reminded him of others he once knew.

“Are things okay at home?”

Seungkwan nodded once, and Baekhyun decided not to push it. If things weren’t okay, he trusted his student to tell him. And either way, he’d keep an eye on the boy. Sighing in resignation, he nodded at the child in front of him.

“Head on home, I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Thank you, Hyung!” Seungkwan bounded out the door.

It occurred to Baekhyun that to him, he was little more than an overbearing TA in a class his parents forced him to attend, three evenings a week. But he thought the kid trusted him more than that.

Baekhyun rolled out of bed and onto his cold wooden floors. It couldn’t be later than five in the morning, and he just lay there, staring at the crack in his white ceiling, the hardwood digging into his shoulder blades. He sighed, dragging himself off the floor and practically tumbling into his shower. It was still dark outside and he smiled. He preferred the dark.

He let the water pound on the back of his neck, soothing the knots that had built up there. Showering was his favourite part of every morning - the way it felt when he stepped out, all clean and shiny and ready for a new day, he _loved_ it.

* * *

Even by the time he had gotten dressed and left his building, the sky was still dark. A little after six and he couldn’t believe the way winter was setting in and seeping the light and warmth from the sky. He thought of someone who always kept him warm, through cold winters and concrete floors. With hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket, he walked along the road with no particular destination in mind. Baekhyun liked wandering. He liked learning the city and finding special little places that it felt like no one else knew about.

He found himself at the bottom of a staircase, between two buildings. The brickwork loomed above him and he smiled to himself. He paced through the building, hands still in his pockets. Somehow, the place became a labyrinth of brickwork tunnels and and stuttering streetlights. A feeling crawled down Baekhyun’s spine, and his brain spoke up.

 _Someone is coming for you_.

He knew it as surely as he knew Seungkwan was going to fail his French mid-term test. He moved faster through the tunnels, ignoring the phone that went off in his pocket. No one except Marc should have his number, and if his service provider was texting him this early, there was an issue.

A light went out.

He began to run, feet pounding the pavement as he pushed off the edge of a wall. Lights followed him the whole way, seemingly one step behind...until one overtook him. Baekhyun’s heart jumped into his throat, and his phone was _still_ going off, whoever it was alternating between texting and calling. He pushed through the darkness, his mind pulsing with the complete certainty that they had _found_ him. He didn’t know what he could do.

He came up against a gate, his mind trying to fathom having actually been caught. It was too high to climb, and the wrought iron bars were chained together. Slowly, he turned around to the darkness, feeling a tightening behind his belly button, like someone was tugging on it. The feeling was familiar and his fear only grew, but he couldn’t have stopped it if he wanted to. Sparks, no, _specks_ of light rose up around him, like a protective barrier. Ridiculous, of course, but somehow it comforted him.

“Wow, it’s like you _want_ the whole of France to know you’re a fucking supernatural being,” a voice commented from behind him.

Baekhyun whirled around to see Yixing grinning at him from the other side of the gate.

“Hey, Baek,” he said.

“You scared the living shit outta me!” Baekhyun shrieked in response.

“Well you didn’t exactly react calmly to there being someone near you - I honestly did try to just walk up and say ‘hi’, but you had to go and freak yourself out.”

“Christ, let me figure out how to get out of here and we’ll talk,” Baekhyun muttered, one hand to his still pounding heart.

Yixing pointed to a tiny gate meant for pedestrians just to Baekhyun’s left. Baekhyun laughed at his own inability to see the obvious and walked out. He waited an awkward moment before hugging the taller man tightly.

“I’ve missed you, Yixing-hyung,” his voice was muffled against Yixing’s chest. “But what on _earth_ are you doing here?”

“Running from Jongin.”

“ _What_?”

“We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW LOOK THREE DAYS IN A ROW. In between house viewings and ignoring my responsibilities, I'm knocking out these puppies every few hours. My housemate is incredibly hyped about this level of productivity, even if my degree is suffering. PLEASE COMMENT I LIKE KNOWING WHAT PEOPLE THINK (but also no pressure)  
> Enjoy!!!


	7. Yunnan, November, 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baekhyun worries more about his plants than actual human lives.

_Yunnan, November, 2015_

 

“Was it actually necessary for us to fly back to China?” Baekhyun grumbled.

He had a pile of papers in his lap that had yet to be marked. Seungkwan’s illegible scrawl was on several of them, and as much as he admired the kid’s effort, his writing could use a lot of work.

“I last saw Jongin snooping around that school of yours,” Yixing replied.

“I still don’t see what’s so bad about that - except for the fact that we all agreed to _never see each other again_ ,” his voice was pointed and he raised an eyebrow at Yixing.

“Yeah, I know. Here,” the older man said, handing Baekhyun a plate of food.

“Thanks.”

Baekhyun put the papers to the side of him. He was on Yixing’s sofa that was also serving as his bed. One thing he’d been adamant about was bringing the homework of his students with him. He had texted Marc and said he wouldn’t be back for a while. He figured his job probably wouldn’t be waiting for him when he got back... _if_ he got back. But that was ridiculous - he couldn’t hide out in Yixing’s house forever. His friend sat on the floor opposite him, fiddling with his chopsticks before digging into his food.

“It’s the kids,” Yixing was saying through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, tons have gone missing.”

“Well, Jongin thinks, for whatever reason, that we can save them.”

Baekhyun paused in eating. He had come here simply because Yixing had mentioned that Jongin and Chanyeol were on some death-defying mission to get them all back together, save the kids, and take down the governing bodies that started all this in the first place. Today was Yixing’s first day off since they got back, and Baekhyun had been waiting for answers to his questions for long enough.

“That’s ridiculous. It’s best we leave it alone,” Baekhyun agreed. “We got out of there - why would we go back?”

“That’s what I think. And honestly, I’d do anything to keep you all safe. I’m trying to find Sehun and warn him. I’m hoping that - well, I’m hoping that if they don’t get enough of us, they’ll give up and go home. It’s been _seven years,_ Baek.”

“Seven years is a long time,” he agreed. “I never thought I’d see any of you again.”

Yixing nodded.

“And I was okay with it.”

Neither of them was hurt or upset by this revelation. They both had decent lives - a purpose in their jobs and a place to sleep at night. Maybe they’d never be able to have others in their lives, and the inevitability of growing old and dying alone was a bit depressing, but waking up every night from horrifying scenes replaying in their heads, and realising it was just a nightmare, a part of their past, was better than anything they could have hoped for. That someone was now trying to undo all that, someone that knew exactly what they were all going through, Baekhyun thought they had to have a pretty good motive.

“But Hyung,” he continued. “Maybe it’s worth hearing them out. Maybe Jongin and Chanyeol are on to something?”

Yixing’s face was expressionless.

“And risk losing anyone else?”

Baekhyun thought about this, and unbidden, images flooded his mind. Kris, missing for days, before being discovered on the roof of the compound, impaled on a weather vane none of them had known existed. The days after Tao didn’t come out of his cell, and they all wondered where he’d gone. Luhan, laying on the floor of their dorm, eyes hard-boiled and skin crisped.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

* * *

Over the next few days, Baekhyun spent his time wandering around Yixing’s small part of the world, that actually didn’t feel that small. He missed his classroom with his students, and wondered how Seungkwan was doing in his absence - he knew Marc had never had much patience with the boy. There were other like Vivienne and Arthur that he knew would still have trouble, but he was mostly worried about the boy who was so far from his home in Jeju. A few days after his arrival in Yunnan, he posted his pile of marking to the teacher he had worked under for the last three years. He had attached a letter of apology for his abrupt absence, and hoped it would do something to preserve his place.

He wondered how his flat was doing. There was a little tea place he decided he rather liked, mostly because of the stubborn daisy that bravely poked through the concrete outside and refused to wilt in the gradually colder weather. It reminded him of his plants at home. He liked having something to look after, and turning his house into a terrarium seemed like a good idea at the time. He was worried that they might be dead when he got back. Or maybe he’d die here in China and no one would every know that there was a house of poor, suffering succulents.

“Don’t worry, babies, I’ll come back to you,” Baekhyun whispered ridiculously to the daisy in the sidewalk.

Maybe all plants have psychic connection that allows them to talk to each other. He hoped so. He hoped his plants could hear him. Then he realised he cared more about them than the fact _actual_ children were disappearing, and hated himself for it. Of _course_ he wanted to help, but what good would it do to get themselves killed in the process?

“They say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness.”

Baekhyun whirled around as he stood, the voice familiar and sending his heart into his throat, pounding like a buk drum.

“I thought seeing ghosts would be a pretty strong indicator of insanity,” he answered, mouth dry.

There, leaning against the wall of the small tea shop he like to frequent, was none other than (perhaps) his only reason for considering risking his life on a whim.

“Long time, no see, Park Chanyeol.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the wonderful reader concerned about my responsibilities, I went to all my classes, I did a food shop, and I wrote this chapter (even though it's a lil bit shorter than usual. I'm proud of me :)  
> Enjoy the chapter and lemme know what you guys think!


	8. Edinburgh, November, 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sehun is a sugar baby with more than one secret. Mostly this is Christmas fluff.

_Edinburgh, November, 2015_

 

“I want to do Christmas like you did when you were a kid,” Sehun pouted.

Thomas glanced up from his desk and sighed.

“Well, what do I have to do?” he asked.

“Lemme have free reign with your card?” he batted his eyes at the older man.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Nah, I’m lucky you think I’m cute.”

Sehun practically danced away with Thomas’ card, grinning the whole way. He had no idea what he was going to get him, but the idea of spending the day out with no spending limit was enormously enjoyable.

“I’ll come find you after my meeting!” he heard Thomas yell from the study.

He shrugged to himself. Officially, Sehun was a sugar baby, complete with contracts and a weekly allowance that helped feed his manhua obsession. Unofficially, he was also the brat that lived in Thomas’ house and took liberties with his credit card. It worked for both of them.

Sehun shrugged into his jacket and left the house, walking down the drive. He had a driver at his disposal, and his own car to boot, but parking in town was a nightmare and he liked getting the bus. He walked down the street, enjoying the crisp weather.

* * *

Town was heaving. The last couple of weeks before Advent, and people were pushing to get some Christmas shopping done before the even larger hordes descended for the holidays. Sehun diverted his attention away from the row of high street shops and kept walking towards the kids’ park in the centre of town.

Given that it was the middle of the week, there weren’t many children running around and climbing over the equipment. A couple of toddlers, some kids who looked like they were skipping, some harried mothers. Nothing much.

A wind picked up, tossing the damp leaves on the ground into the air and making those tired mothers hold their hair back from their faces. One stumbled back from the force of a gust that caught her, and Sehun frowned. He was getting stronger, he knew that much, but he didn’t know _why_ , and no amount of practice seemed to help. A flash of anger pulsed through him. At himself, mostly, but also at his stupid body for being able to do this stupid thing. The anger only made things worse though, and wheelie bins in the street behind him tipped over. He stood up, kicking at the ground. Mud covered the front of his trainers, and he immediately regretted it. They had been expensive, and Thomas expected him to look after his things. He knew he’d be in trouble for it. He figured getting him the best present ever would help make up for it.

* * *

Sehun spent ages choosing decorations. He had to text his driver and ask him to pick him up because the bags just kept adding up.

When Martin showed up, Sehun offloaded most of his bags to the tired, gray-haired man. Maybe wasn’t explicitly part of his job description, but he cared enough about his boss’s happiness that he wasn’t about to argue. Keeping Sehun happy meant his boss was kept happy.

“What should I get Tom, Martin?” Sehun muttered.

“I’m not sure. He could use a new pair of pyjamas,” Martin answered.

“He doesn’t wear pyjamas.”

“Exactly.”

The driver’s tone was deadpan and Sehun had to laugh. More than once, Martin had walked in and found Thomas curling around Sehun in the kitchen, his apron not fully covering the essentials.

“How about some new loafers?” Martin suggested seriously.

“He’s not that old!” Sehun was indignant. “He’s in his forties!”

“Ooh, sorry, hit a nerve there I guess,” the smirk on his face was joyful.

“But, shoes are a good shout.”

Thomas _hated_ shoe shopping, but hated the way he’d come home and be told off by Sehun for his style choices even more. They weren’t in love, but after five years, they had a delightful kind of relationship where he would grant Sehun the world on a silver platter, and in return would be told that his favourite pair of trousers made his butt look big.

* * *

Returning home with several boxes of shoes that Martin said he’d leave in Sehun’s car until he could hide them, and the young man felt rather content with how his day had gone. He toted Christmas decorations into the house, and Frankie came out to help with putting them up. She was their young housekeeper; only a couple years older than Sehun, and he found he got on with her like a friend. They laughed and danced to the Christmas music he blasted all afternoon.

“Good God,” grumbled Thomas as he entered the living room. “I thought you knew about the rule of Christmas not starting until December!”

“Every year, you say that, and every year, I tell you that in my house, Christmas starts in November,” smiled Sehun.

“Your house?”

A raised eyebrow was brought down by a peck on the lips from Sehun.

“Awww, c’mon, remember, as a _poor_ , _orphaned_ child, I didn’t have Christmas. I’m making up for lost time.”

“Mhmm, and one day, you’re gonna tell me all about that childhood you say was so horrible,” Thomas tugged on his ear before moving to sit on one of the lavish sofas.

Sehun ignored this.

The whole place was rather lavish, actually. Wood panelled halls with secrets corridors that servants would have used a hundred years ago, filled to the brim with cozy furniture and lush carpeting that was the best money could buy. Sehun loved it.

“C’mere,” Thomas’ voice cut through his reverie about loving the place.

Frankie had disappeared with amazing stealth. Sehun tumbled into Thomas’ lap with a giggle.

“Do you really hate the decorations that much?” he pouted, burying his face in the older man’s neck.

“I think it’s a little early,” Thomas chuckled at the frown against his collarbone. “But I love the way you were smiling when I came in. And they way you were dancing... _damn_. So I’ll put up with it if there’s more of that.”

Sehun looked up with eyes sparkling with happiness and mischief.

“Yay! Thank you!” he crowed.

“Now, you did spend an _obscene_ amount of money today - if these sparkly things are anything to go by, and you _definitely_ have to be punished for the state of your trainers.”

The pointed look towards the entryway had Sehun blushing and frowning.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he murmured.

Thomas stood up, an evil glint in his eye that was already stirring something in Sehun.

“Oh, Baby, not as sorry as you’re gonna be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS THIS IS YOUR WARNING THAT THERE WILL BE SMUT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. Also, enjoy. Sorry for not posting yesterday, I was doing incredibly important things such as napping.


	9. Edinburgh, November, 2015 (cont.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some smut. Then some more smut. Sehun is a sugar baby, obvs there was gonna be smut. Also some gore at the end, fair warning.

_Edinburgh, November, 2015_

 

“Hush, Baby, no noise.”

Sehun was trussed up like a Christmas turkey, tinsel holding his limbs to the bedposts, and a black leather collar with roses etched into it. The whine he’d let out had earned him a light tap on the abdomen with the very end of a riding crop.

Thomas was perched on a chair in the corner of the room. He was still fully dressed, and was sipping from a glass of white wine. The plate from his dinner had been pushed to the edge of the dresser in the room. Sehun’s punishment was the teasing, and not being allowed to acknowledge the way it turned him on. His cock was already fully erect, and any time he calmed down enough that he might show a sign of reduced arousal like his breathing returning to normal, Thomas would trail the riding crop back over a patch of pale skin, flicking it lightly before settling back into his seat. This had been going on for the better part of half an hour, and as much as he he would complain of being bored, a flick of the older man’s wrist proved otherwise.

“Do you think you deserve to come tonight?” Thomas asked, his voice professorial.

Sehun nodded eagerly.

“Clearly you haven’t learned your lesson. Maybe we’ll leave the ring on for the time being?”

A keening whine escaped Sehun’s mouth and he struggled against the tinsel. A few sharp bites of the crop and he was quiet, although panting heavily, and looking at Thomas through heavy eyes. The bulging of his dick against his stomach was driving him insane and he just wanted to be _touched_. He hated the cock ring, the way it snugly fit around his balls and cock, making everything so much more intense whilst also stopping the very orgasm he was straining towards.

“You look so pretty, blushing like this, and I’m glad for the tinsel...maybe it’s a good thing Christmas came early in this household after all.”

Sighing, Thomas began to remove his clothes. Despite being more than twice Sehun’s age, it was a requirement of his that they both stay in peak physical condition, and it showed. Muscles more firmly defined for his age and skin tanned from years in the sun, the sight of him still sent the rest of Sehun’s blood rushing South. His partner wasn’t exactly unaffected either, the huge length protruding from his pelvis evidence of the younger man’s effect on him. He untied the tinsel with a few deft picks of his fingers, and pushed his brown hair, streaked with a few lines of silver, back from his forehead. His blue eyes were intense, hungry for the young man he had tied up. Climbing onto Sehun, he kissed him deeply, trailing his blunt fingertips down his sides. Circling a nipple with his thumb, he sucked the other into his mouth, making Sehun’s hips snap up under his thighs. A strong hand held him down.

“Not yet, Baby.”

Sehun pouted at his daddy, electric currents running under his skin wherever he was touched. He knew he didn’t have too long to wait though; Thomas’ breath was becoming slightly ragged, and he knew the man well enough to understand that he’d give in soon. This display of dominance was just something he enjoyed.

Nipping at his skin, Thomas left marks that would be there for days. Sehun groaned, and it suddenly stopped. Those sapphire eyes stared into his, trying to be hard and unforgiving, but mostly looking considering. Without another word, Thomas bit him just a _little_ too hard, making him give a low yowl of pain and pleasure, before grabbing the bottle of lube from the bedside table. Without giving him any time to adjust, Sehun’s legs were forced up, and two fingers thrust inside of him without warning. He gasped in pain.

“It’s a punishment, remember?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Sehun complied, tears leaking out of his eyes.

He was a cut a little bit af slack though, with his prostate being stroked by the two fingers hooked into him. He had to bite his lip to stop from crying out, not wanting it to stop.

“You can make noise now, Baby, I wanna hear you scream.”

It was whispered into his chest, making him shudder with the breath on his sternum. Another press to his prostate, a third finger inserted, and his head was tipping back into the pillows. He was barely given any time to adjust and appreciate it before Thomas was pressing into him slowly. One hand snaked up to Sehun’s collar and held him so he had to meet Thomas’ eyes. His own hands were pulled against the scratching of the tinsel and he wondered if he’d have yet more marks, not because it was too tight, but because he was straining so violently. Thomas waited a moment to allow the majority of the pain and some of the pleasure to pass through his system before setting up a punishing pace that made Sehun cry out.

He was pounded into, his whole body shifting with the movement, and he bit into Thomas’ shoulder when he came down for a kiss, the hand on his collar tightening for a moment to remind him who was in charge.

“Please, please, _please_ , Daddy!” he begged.

“Not yet, Honey, not yet. You’ve got to wait your turn,” the other man panted.

A few more thrusts, and Thomas was coming with a roar.

“Now, Baby, come for me,” he commanded, finally touching his cock and stroking him to completion.

It wasn’t as satisfying as usual - probably because of the cock ring, and he felt like he had been restricted, but he was still left crying out and shuddering in the man’s embrace.

“Good boy, good boy,” cooed Thomas.

Sehun moaned in reply as Thomas carefully untied him.

“Oh, Sweetie, I know, I know. You never like the cock ring do you?”

Sehun shook his head unhappily.

“Maybe you’ll look after your things better from now on then? Hmm?”

“Yes,” Sehun replied sleepily. “I’ll be better.”

“Good boy,” was the answer again, and Sehun smiled happily, his eyes drifting shut.

Thomas cleaned him gently with a flannel and soothed his wrists with some salve, frowning at the marks that had been left from the tinsel.

“They don’t hurt,” Sehun assured him.

“But I’d still only like you to have the marks we’ve agreed on. I’m sorry, Baby.”

Thomas curled up behind Sehun, pulling the blanket up over them. He petted his hair and hummed to him until he fell asleep.

* * *

In the morning, Thomas was already up. This wasn’t unusual. After their nights together, Thomas always like to pamper him and remind him just how loved he was, as though it wasn’t obvious the night before. He would be in the kitchen, probably whipping up something delicious and filled with sugar that Sehun would eat way too much of before being shunted off to his personal trainer for four hours.

He dragged himself out of the nest of blankets, and pulled on a pair of boxers and one of Tom’s button ups, rolling the sleeves of the light blue shirt up. There was a noise down the hall from the piano room, and he figured it was Frankie, starting the morning a little earlier than usual. He stumbled down the hall to the kitchen. He should have known something was off because the radio was playing his pop music station, not the classical one that Tom like to cook along to. Entering the kitchen and at first he couldn’t comprehend what was going on.

Thomas’ feet were poking out from behind the island, but he was bent at an angle that so was his head. Horrified at the blank staring eyes, Sehun tried to look anywhere else, but where he looked brought him to Martin, slumped against the door with three shots in his chest, a frying pan with drying blood on the edge still in his hands. The worst though, had to be Frankie. She was leaning over the diner like she’d fallen asleep, but her neck was twisted way too far around for it to be natural. That, and her young eyes staring blankly made Sehun want to gag. He had no idea what had happened, or why.

Suddenly, the world went dark as he was grabbed from behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahaha so I wrote this in one night whilst my housemates were watching x factor. I should just end with the suffering already and stick them altogether. dunno if there'll be more tomorrow - I actually have a job where I earn money to pay my electricity bill that charges my laptop so I can upload this shit. So I'll be there. For about 16 hours. And then have some health shit to deal with so here's hoping y'all can wait a few days after my magnanimous gift of two chapters in one night.


	10. Marseille, November, 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junmyeon and Sehun see each other again...

_Marseille, November, 2015_

 

 _He was running. He felt like he was always running. And he could never reach the boy he felt so,_ so, _responsible for._

_The house was grand; a big, old, mansion that towered over him as he paced up the drive in the early hours of Thursday morning. The sky was just turning that shade of periwinkle blue that made Junmyeon feel like he could blend in with his surroundings._

_He was too late._

_A black van out front had been abandoned with the back doors open. A light flashed across a window from inside, and Junmyeon ducked out of view behind a tall oak tree. As soon as it had passed, he sprinted the rest of the way to the front door that had been left slightly ajar, not caring about the noise his footfalls would make on the gravel. He pushed in, and wondered if he’d be able to find Sehun before it was too late._

_He passed the kitchen, grimacing at the perfect marble countertops and stainless steel fridge. Sehun had somehow made his home here, without the help of Joonmyun. He didn’t know whether to be proud or sad. Maybe a bit of both._

_Down past wood-panelled walls, and he found a group of men, sneaking through the office, searching for any information. It wasn’t very hard to incapacitate them, although he felt a little guilty when the vase he stole water from smashed. He supposed it wouldn’t really be missed amongst the mess the men had made though. He left their bodies behind, and slid back through the house. He followed the sound of low voices to a room with a piano that had been beautifully decorated for the holidays, and came across seven others, geared up in black._

_“Aww, fuck,” he mumbled._

_They all turned in shock._

_“You’re Sehun!” one of them cried in English._

_“That’s racist. We look nothing alike. Maybe you’d be better at this if you didn’t assume we all looked like one another. I’m Junmyeon,” Junmyeon responded drily, bowing in mock respect._

_“Hey, the French division is looking for him!” another piped up._

_“The French division is dead.”_

_Rubbing his hand over his face, he sighed. He was sick of the body count adding up, but he knew that neither him nor Sehun would get out of here alive if they did. If Sehun was even still breathing. And talking about it wasn’t going to help him find out if he was. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a source of water in the room, except for the inch of whiskey left on a side table. Pipes were under the floorboards and buried in the walls, but he thought it a crying shame to ruin such a nice house. He closed his eyes, and flicked his wrist, sending a spray of water into the air._

_It wasn’t hard for Junmyeon to control it these days - he spent most of his time in a dried up swimming pool back home, pushing himself to the limits. The men were all dead within a few minutes, drowned whilst still standing up, without even the opportunity to try and shoot him with the pistols they were all armoured with. The pipes were still misting water into the room, and Junmyeon let it die down, hoping that whoever Sehun was living with wouldn’t be too put out by the body count and the damage to their residence. Three shots echoed throughout the house and his head snapped around._

“Sehun!” _he hissed, rushing from the room. There was enough water let loose in the property that he didn’t care if anyone heard him. He had killed more than nine people and hadn’t been here more than an hour, how many more would there be?_

_Rounding back into the kitchen, there was carnage, with Sehun standing in the centre. He didn’t have time to shout a warning before the man hidden behind the door peeled away from his hiding place and inserted a needle into Sehun’s neck._

* * *

They were both in a warehouse. It was an old, empty place near his swimming pool that Junmyeon always felt safe. It was cold, but he had dragged pillows out from the conservatory he rented and covered the shivering, younger man, in blankets. He was slowly stirring back to life, and Junmyeon couldn’t do anything but stay with his arms curled around his legs and his head resting on his knees. His jeans and white t-shirt were filthy, his blonde hair dusted up into a messy halo.

“Hey,” Sehun grumbled, curling tighter under his blankets.

“Hey,” croaked Junmyeon. “How’re you feeling?”

He remembered that face, only too well. How he had lived for making him smile, in whatever capacity. As Sehun pushed himself up though, eyes groggy and clouded with sleep, Junmyeon knew there was no chance of him smiling now. His own eyes were red and puffy with crying.

“You saved me.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“And Tom…” Sehun’s eyes flashed alert like he remembered. “Oh my God.”

He covered his mouth with a shaking hand. Then his whole body was shaking as he heaved in air through a closed throat. Tears sparked in his eyes but wouldn’t fall. Junmyeon scooted closer and pulled the younger boy into his lap. There were no words of consolation he could offer.

“Martin,” he moaned into his hand, “and Frankie, oh Frankie, oh my God, oh my God, oh my _God_.”

Hyperventilating, Sehun’s whole body was shaking unbelievably, even as Joonmyun stroked his hair and tried to encourage him into normal breaths. The younger man tumbled out of his grasp, holding up a shaking hand.

“Don’t,” he begged. “Just, please. Don’t touch me.”

Junmyeon nodded, backing up and tucked his knees back under his chin, watching the agonising process of Sehun trying to work through his memories. And he couldn’t do _anything._ Tears snuck out of his own eyes that were already sore with the hours he had spent looking at the other man. The years that separated them and the almost ligature-looking marks on his wrists.

_What had he been through._

He knew he shouldn’t have left him as a fourteen-year-old on the streets of Seoul, but he hadn’t had a choice. Travelling together would have been too conspicuous.

* * *

It felt like an era had come and gone before the wracking sobs of Sehun’s body died down. For both of them, it was cold, and their breath came in small puffs of moisture.

“I brought you some clothes,” Junmyeon said, his voice cracking.

He didn’t know what else to say. ‘Sorry’ couldn’t begin to cover what was probably going on in Sehun’s mind. He tried to pass the warm sweater and sweatpants to the other man, but he shook his head.

“No, thank you.”

“Sehunnie, you’ll freeze.”

Sehun’s eyes were dark with emotion, and a cold wind blew through the building, making Junmyeon shudder.

“I’m okay with that.”

Junmyeon tried not to let his worry show.

“But I’m not.”

“I’m not changing, Hyung,” his voice was final, and Junmyeon decided not to push it.

“Okay.”

Sehun looked up in surprise - his hyung was never one to acquiesce so easily. Especially when it was about their welfare.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. You’ve been through a shit time, and I’m not about to push this when we’ve got heavier problems to deal with.”

Junmyeon’s voice was low and serious, and Sehun raised an eyebrow.

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I thought about posting early, but taking multiple naps took precedence. Now that I've had about 12000 doctor's appointments, worked enough to pay that electricity bill, and slept through half the days, I've got another chapter for you. Enjoy! Also to the boy - thank you for reading, hope you're still loving it.
> 
> UPDATE 25/11/2017: HELLO LOVELY PEOPLE! I promise I'm trying to get some stuff written (maybe a lil bit of chanbaek for you, who knows...). Anyway, life is hitting me pretty hard at the moment. I've got deadlines, a few health issues, and an upcoming surgery, not to mention the delightful lead up to Christmas in which my mental health challenges me in a match to the death. Gladiator style. Except it has a fuck off big spear and I have a butter knife. I swear I'm okay, I swear I'm trying to do something for all of you...just...I didn't want to leave you with a catatonic Sehun and no explanation. Welp, that's all. Hope you're all enjoying life!  
> -Pinepitch


	11. Berlin, January, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's cozy in Minseok's drug pad and also a wild Sehun appears.

_Berlin, January, 2016_

 

He was a stolen kiss. He was hands running down his back behind the mini-mart when they had told everyone they’d just gone out for milk. He was every memory that was too important to let go of, but too painful to bring up.

He was Park Chanyeol.

“We - we should get back,” panted Baekhyun.

He trailed his hands down the jacketed form of the taller man, stopping to brush the sliver of flesh that was exposed when Chanyeol wrapped his arms around him.

“You’re right,” was the reply, Chanyeol’s voice deep and husky.

Baekhyun pushed off of him slightly, and crossed his arms.

“Your voice doesn’t sound like I’m right.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your voice sounds like ‘let’s fuck in this alleyway’ not ‘let’s buy milk’.”

“Maybe it’s because I’d rather fuck in this alleyway than buy milk.”

Baekhyun chuckled darkly.

“Not today. It’s cold and dirty.”

“So is Minseok-hyung’s. You’re saying you’d rather do it there?”

“No! Just...we’ll find time, Yeol. It’s just hectic right now.”

Chanyeol pouted but accepted his explanation, murmuring about how much he _loved_ having everyone back together again. Baekhyun followed him around to the entrance of the store, trying to get his heart rate under control. He was so focused on this that he ran into the back of the taller man, who had stopped short in the door. He tried to protest and look around the other man, but he was totally blocking any sight into the store.

“Sehun,” he whispered.

“Sorry, _what?_ ”

Baekhyun was confused. Sehun was _gone_. They’d tracked down his last place of residence and found nothing but bodies and their missing maknae. Junmyeon had disappeared off the face of the Earth with a French division of bounty hunters, and they thought he was gone as well. Frustrated and confused, Baekhyun pushed into the shop under the arm of the taller man. He stopped dead in his tracks. Staring at a display of chilled drinks, was none other than Oh Sehun, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a blue button up.

* * *

“Did you get milk?” Minseok’s voice filtered through the hallway as the trio shut the door behind them. Ever since Chanyeol had arrived, Minseok had seemingly quit all drugs, and now replaced it with what appeared to be gallons of milk. None of them were sorry about it.

“Um…” Baekhyun began, unsure of how to present the situation.

Him and Chanyeol shared a look and decided on just walking in, towing Sehun with them. He stumbled a little, and Baekhyun worried about the state of him. No one said anything, and Minseok just moved over on the sofa, open mouthed and staring. Chanyeol settled him onto the sofa and layered the blankets he could find onto the frozen boy.

“Where’s Yixing?”, he asked gruffly.

“He went to get food, shouldn’t be out for too much longer,” Minseok replied. “Jongin took him.”

They both turned their attention to Sehun. He was a catatonic mess. His feet were bare, filthy and frozen. There were parts that appeared black, and Baekhyun didn’t know if it was frostbite or grime. The boy hadn’t spoken since they’d found him, but he was thin, and looked like he hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks. He was wearing Baekhyun’s sweater and Chanyeol’s jacket. Despite being broader than either of them, he was swamped in the clothes. They didn’t know what his hair had looked like originally, but they figured a greasy tangle, matted with dirt wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

“Go run a bath, Baek.”

The command snapped Baekhyun out of his reverie and he moved towards Minseok’s dingy bathroom, but was stopped by the older man’s voice.

“Don’t put him in the bath, you’ll fry his nerve endings and cause unnecessary pain.”

“So what do we do?” Baekhyun’s voice was small and worried.

“We wait for Yixing,” Minseok said before turning to Sehun. “Sehun, can you speak to us? Can you look at me?”

There was no answer. Sehun stared at the cartoons flickering on the old TV like he was seeing the void. All three of the men surrounding him looked on in worry. A boy stumbled out of the bathroom, big eyes curious.

“I thought I felt…” he began, but stopped on catching sight of the new arrival. He smiled. “Oh, hi, you must be Sehun. I’m Seungcheol.”

* * *

“Jesus, how long has he been like this?” Yixing queried, kneeling in front of Sehun, who hadn’t moved in the hour since he’d been settled on the sofa.

The only signs of life were the occasional blink and the shallow breaths that he took. Five of the six occupants of the tiny studio flat had been instructed to stay back whilst Yixing worked. Minseok held three fingers in his right hand like the sight of him working was causing him flashbacks. He adjusted the headphones perched on his ears, subtly turning up the music. When things were stressful, he favoured classical, and the rhythm pulled through him smoothly with a string quartet.

“Since we found him...um...an hour ago?” Chanyeol supplied, trying to be helpful.

Yixing made a clicking noise and set to work. He stripped the blankets off Sehun, and murmured to him soothingly the whole way. With his hands placed on either side of his neck, Yixing tipped his head forward until their foreheads met. It looked like such an intimate moment that they all wanted to look away. Seungcheol tugged on Baekhyun’s sleeve and gave him a questioning look, but Baekhyun just patted him on the head and put a finger to his lips. They’d explain later. For now, they all held their breath and watched, hoping and praying that their friend (was he a friend after all this time?) would be okay.

* * *

It felt like it took hours, but the clock told them it was no more than half an hour. Yixing stood on unsteady legs, and Jongin caught him.

“Hyung?” Seungcheol asked, worried. “Hyung, you don’t feel so good.”

“Seungcheol-ah,” replied his elder, “I’m okay, I just need to lie down for a little while.”

The youngest of the group furrowed his brow but didn’t press the issue. He could feel the way Yixing’s energy had dimmed a little in the aftermath, but Sehun’s had become significantly brighter. The man on the couch did indeed look better, and Chanyeol moved to sit next to him as Jongin helped Yixing onto one of their sleeping mats. He took in the healthy colour of his cheeks and the way he looked a little less sunken. When Chanyeol took one of the maknae’s hands in his own, he didn’t pull back, and his skin was a normal temperature.

“Can you talk, Sehun-ah?”

“I can, but I don’t feel like it yet,” Sehun responded, his voice hoarse.

Chanyeol nodded - Minseok had needed time, and they still didn’t know everything. Baekhyun hadn’t told him anything, and Jongin said he had nothing to tell. It had been seven years, and you can’t repair the lost time over a hot drink and a cozy chat.

“That’s okay, that’s fine,” Chanyeol assured him. “I’ll get you some clean clothes to sleep in though - “

“No!”

Sehun’s head snapped up, eyes burning with an unfamiliar fear and defensiveness. It was the most animated they’d seen him since finding him.

“Don’t you want a bath or shower though?”

“I’m - I’m fine,” Sehun was adamant.

“Sehun…” Baekhyun input, with Seungcheol peering around him curiously. “I really think a bath would be good for you.”

“It did me a world of good,” Minseok supplied.

None of them noticed Sehun getting more and more agitated as they crowded just a little too close for comfort.

“Guys!” Jongin snapped. “Step back and give him some space. If he doesn’t want to bathe right now, I don’t think we should be pushing it. Wait until Yixing wakes up and ask what he thinks.”

They all looked at their resident medic asleep on the floor and came to a silent agreement that they would wait - despite the heavy smell Sehun was spreading throughout the tiny space. Seungcheol wrinkled his nose.

A noise was heard in the hall.

“It’s just my neighbour,” Minseok assured them. “He does his deals late like this.”

Chanyeol turned to point out that Seuncheol should have been in bed hours ago but was cut short by the shouting that started up. It was loud, angry German and a confused spattering of what they couldn’t believe sounded like Korean. Jongin crept to the peephole, before gasping and ripping open the door before Minseok could warn him not to confront the angry drug dealer across the hall.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” came a tense voice. “I must’ve gotten the wrong place, so sorry!”

Chanyeol could see over Jongin’s shoulder at the man bowing apologetically.

He opened his mouth to ask the younger boy what to do, but Jongin beat him to it.

“Junmyeon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...here we have Seungcheol...a precious bean of a child that we will cherish and protect. Also, the previous note stands, I may find it hard to update because unfortunately a 2500 word essay that's 45% of my grade is a thing. Plus all the other stuff, but mostly this essay is kicking my fanfiction-writing ass. It took me about 4 days to write this angsty trash I am gifting to you. Believe me, my housemate has been suffering.  
> Stay swell people.


	12. Colorado, January, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil exposition on Kyungsoo and sweet baby Dino

_ Colorado, January, 2016 _

 

“C’mon, bud,” Kyungsoo said, opening the passenger side door. 

The little boy tumbled sleepily out of the seat and set his feet on the ground, staring at the school in front of him.

“Da!”, he complained. “I don’t want to go to school today!” 

Kyungsoo sighed at his son, and looked at the reflections of sky in the glass walls of Stanley British Primary School.

“Unfortunately, you gotta. But it’s Friday, we can have the whole weekend off.”

The child beamed at him.

“Can we go to Popey’s after school?”

“If you’re good. Now go on, don’t be late.”

Kyungsoo held his son tight for a moment and smiled at the way he ran off, bag bouncing on his back. He would have turned away if he knew his son wouldn’t spin around at the door.

“Love you, Da!” was the shout that followed.

“Love you too, Dino!”

* * *

 

He had a bad feeling about leaving Dino behind. Too be fair, he had a bad feeling every time his son was out of his direct line of vision, and he shook it off, pushing the small piles of rubble that seemed to find his way into their home back out the door. 

Today had been a struggle. Dino had been mopey all morning, and they had almost been late out of the door. He piled breakfast dishes in the sink and resolved to do them at lunchtime, thinking about how much work he had to get done before he picked the boy up at 4.30. He had what was frankly the most boring job in the world - writing instruction manuals for a car company, but it paid well. It afforded his son’s education and a nice,  _ sturdy _ , house. And frankly, the sturdy house was the important thing. Dino looked like his mother, but when he was two, the earthquake that split their first house suggested he might be more like his father.

Kyungsoo settled down to get some work done, his laptop glowing to life in his dim office. He hummed along to the radio on in the background, and settled in for the day.

* * *

Three cups of coffee later, he looked up, horrified that it was only quarter past one. Deciding it was late enough to deserve a break, Kyungsoo stood and brushed his hands off on his jeans like he wanted to get the words about combustion engines and jump starting off them.

The phone started ringing while he was waiting for last night’s chicken to reheat. It struck a chord of uneasiness into his heart, but pushed it down - it was probably just a sales call. When he saw the caller ID, his heart plummeted.

 

_ Lee Chan _

 

“Chan?” he answered the phone urgently, gripping the phone like he could be closer to his son just by squeezing it.

“Daddy,” whispered Dino. “Daddy there’s men here.”

“What men?” his voice came out harsher than he had wanted. “Dino, what men.”

“Men wearing all sorts of black and they have face masks and - “

“I’ll be there in ten,” Kyungsoo cut him off. “Chan, get out of there. But don’t let those men see you. Don’t let  _ anyone  _ see you. Wait behind the cafe on the corner. I’ll find you.”

“Yes, Da,” murmured the scared boy on the other end.

* * *

The drive was death defying. Kyungsoo didn’t strictly break any traffic laws, but he definitely pushed it. Thankfully, midday traffic, even in Denver, didn’t cause too much holdup and he was pulling up behind The Delectable Egg in almost no time, Dino sliding into the passenger seat and pulling away. He didn’t see hide nor hair of the men Dino had warned him about, but he didn’t doubt his son in the slightest. The first lesson he had learned was to look out for the unusual, and not to be the unusual others are looking out for.

* * *

They didn’t speak until they were on the highway.

“Da,” Dino’s voice trembled.

“Yes?”

“Who were those men?” he sniffled a little and Kyungsoo spared a glance over at him. 

“Bad men, Chan, they were bad men.”

Tears were running down Dino’s face and Kyungsoo reached over and rubbed soothing circles into his back. He let his son cry for a little bit, knowing how scary this must be for him.

* * *

_ He was little once...little like Dino. He had clutched the sheets of his bed in fear when the door to his cell creaked open. _

_ “What can you do?” whispered a boy not much younger than himself. _

_ “I can move the earth. I’m strong,” he muttered. _

_ “Oh.” _

_ “It hurts here. I can’t feel it.” _

_ “Can’t feel what?” _

_ “The ground.” _

_ “Come with me.”  _

_ A small hand was offered to him. He took it uncertainly and met Jongin’s wide eyes. _

_ “What can you do?” _

_ “Bring you to the ground.” _

* * *

“You can have whatever you want,” Kyungsoo told Dino, a hand still on his son’s back. “But we gotta go real soon.”

The boy observed the rack of snack with disapproval. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I need the potty,” Dino whined.

Kyungsoo gritted his teeth but nodded, taking him back outside to the restroom attached to gas station. The little boy peed, washed his hands, and turned back to his dad.

“I’m scared.”

Kyungsoo knelt down and opened his arms, letting his son relax into him. 

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.  _ No one  _ is going to hurt you,” he whispered fiercely. And it was true, he would die before seeing his son go through the same childhood as him. He had known they were living on borrowed freedom.

* * *

_ Rebecca Lee. She was beautiful. Some sort of drug that Kyungsoo threw himself into in those first months after he escaped Seoul and burst into a new life in the USA. Born and raised in America, but with perfect Korean, she was a connection to the people he’d lost and he found himself basking in her friendship. She showed him how to live. Then, one day, she had asked to speak to him over a cup of coffee at their favourite diner. _

_ “D.O…” _

_ “Becks, what is it?” he thought she was going to say she was moving, that she was tired of him, that she had found someone and their absurd relationship as best friends who fuck had to end.  _

_ Even though it had only been three months, Kyungsoo was fairly sure his life would be hollow without her. _

_ “I’m pregnant.” _

_ “Oh.” _

* * *

Having a child had never been his plan. But less than a year after he left an institution that had been all he had ever known, he found himself as the sole parent to a baby boy the same week he buried the only person he’d ever trusted outside of Korea. And as much as he felt unprepared and so emotionally damaged that he couldn’t possibly raise his son, he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.  _ Especially  _ not his own flesh and blood that Rebecca had died for. He could see her round stomach and smiling face in his head, contemplating the life they were planning together. The fears of being found had still permeated every moment of his existence. When Dino showed signs of his own abilities, that had only been heightened. In a way, after six years of being on his toes, Kyungsoo was glad to know that it hadn’t all been for nothing. Of course, he wished his son could live the normal life he had planned for him.

Things never seemed to go the way he planned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! Look at me, updating and stuff...sorry for not much happening here - I thought it was time for a lil bit of sad fluff and an introduction to the dynamic of Kyungsoo being an excellent father to Dino. Those boys deserve only good things in life. I'm probably not gonna give it to them...
> 
> I am warning you now that I have deadlines out the wazoo, and 9 days until a surgery that's gonna take a little while for me to recover from enough to write. I'll try, but if anything seems a lil weird, it's gonna be a mixture of painkillers and general confusion.   
> Love you all!  
> -Pinepitch


	13. Boston, January, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of precious baby Dino and Kyungsoo as a soft, soft, father.

_ Boston, January, 2016 _

 

He had driven all the way to the East coast and then decided that wasn’t far enough, so now they were parked outside Logan International Airport, and Kyungsoo was trying to decide where the best place for him and Dino to escape to was. His son was asleep in the seat next to him, looking like Kyungsoo’s whole world.

He thought somewhere like Kazakhstan sounded appropriate. 

A few clicks of an app and a potentially too-expensive couple of one-way tickets, and they were ready to go. He had no idea how they were going to navigate immigration once they got there, but he had his and Chan’s passports in the car (just in case), along with the rest of their personal documents. 

“C’mon,” he grumbled, exhausted by the whole affair of escaping.

Dino blinked up at him, having been asleep for the last four hours of driving, and rolled stiffly out of the car. He looked so sad and small that when he held his arms up to his father, Kyungsoo picked him up and carried him. With his arms wrapped securely around his neck and his head buried into Kyungsoo’s neck, the older felt a little more peaceful and more determined than ever to keep his son safe. He grabbed the backpack of their clothes out of the trunk and the toy turtle he had bought Dino in a Wal-Mart on their journey. He always slept better when he had something to hold, and Kyungsoo couldn’t deny him a turtle when his whole life had been ripped away. The child snuggled into the fabric of the toy when it was handed to him, making content sleepy noises.

* * *

It was on his way into the airport that he noticed something odd. He crouched behind the taxi rank and tried to assess the situation with his son still on his hip. The focus of his scrutiny was a group of men making absolutely no effort to blend in. They were dressed head to toe in what looked like SWAT gear, armoured helmets and all. Immediately, the surrounding public began to panic, the feeling of it spreading through the crowds of people like tittering birds. They moved on though, pushing through and past people in a determined manner. Against his better judgement, Kyungsoo had to know what was going on. Especially with the small insignia he had seen branded into the back of their helmets.

Following them was easy.  

He hefted Dino into a more comfortable position and slipped through the crowd after them. The men were pushing to what looked like a smoking shelter, and that’s when Kyungsoo saw the boy. In the midst of middle aged businessmen and exhausted looking twenty-somethings, a young boy stuck out like a sore thumb, even though he was trying to hide behind two men talking on mobile phones.

Kyungsoo recognised this boy immediately. He held the same fear as himself, as Dino. The fear of being found. When he spotted the men, Kyungsoo knew that he was like them, and some sort of twisted fate had brought three people of a similar nature together when others sought to capture them.

He didn’t think.

Dino was awake after their little excursion, and let his father set him down on a bench.

“Stay here,” Kyungsoo instructed. “You don’t move unless I come get you, or one of those men tries to take you - okay?”

Dino nodded silently in shock, eyes still sleepy and hair ruffled.

Kyungsoo left his son in what he hoped was a relatively safe place and headed for the boy cowering behind others. The men had seen him though, and he shrunk against a wall, curling in on himself. Clearly, he knew it’d be useless to fight - but that didn’t explain the way he kept his arms tucked into his sides.

As the men crowded around the boy, Kyungsoo couldn’t help but wonder what gave them cause to send so  _ many  _ after one small child who probably couldn’t fight off two, let alone six or seven. Then he remembered that this kid could probably do  _ something _ \- if they were going after him.

He found out. With his fists braced at his sides, he was willing to use force the moment any of them dared lay a hand on the kid. Instead, the kid reached out, tears now running down his little face. The way he lifted his hand to one of their faces in an almost delicate way, like a caress was eerie. And then the man dropped. In an instant, guns were trained on the boy and he was back to trying to meld into the surface behind him. Smokers that had been watching with curiosity cleared the area with noises of panic. A few brave (stupid?) souls pulled out their phones and began recording the whole thing. 

Kyungsoo winced internally. He really didn’t want his face to be plastered all over YouTube. He backed up, heart pounding nervously. A look over his shoulder assured him that Dino was still seated on the bench with his thumb in his mouth - a habit he hadn’t had since he was very small. His heart fluttered painfully against his ribcage. He couldn’t, he  _ wouldn’t  _ put his son in the public eye. 

The boy was sobbing now, crouched on the ground and tears flowing freely from his eyes. The man he had touched wasn’t getting up. Kyungsoo flicked his wrists delicately, and the concrete erupted. He didn’t dare get closer to the boy in case anyone noticed his involvement. 

Soil spilled over the ground, and the earth appeared to split with a deafening crack. The men fell, tumbling into the abyss. Shocked though he was, the boy scrambled away from the fissure wisely, almost knocking into Kyungsoo as he tried to run.

He stopped just before they collided and shied away.

“Come with me,” Kyungsoo demanded and he tried to take the boy’s hand.

The boy shook his head, looking horrified at the outstretched limb.

“Come  _ on _ !” Kyungsoo commanded. “I’m just like you, and we have to  _ go _ !” 

The boy seemed to realise he didn’t have much choice, and followed as Kyungsoo ran, scooping up Dino without even slowing down. 

* * *

The kid was fast. They made it through to the departures gate with almost no hassle, and Kyungsoo didn’t have to stop once to let the other boy catch up.

Once they were anxiously waiting in line for their tickets to be printed, Kyungsoo spoke to him.

“Where are you going?”, he asked.

“As far away as I can,” squeaked his new acquaintance.   
“What about your parents? Grandparents? Anyone?”

“They’re all dead.”

He looked downcast, and Kyungsoo figured that he really didn’t have any other option. He pulled his phone back out and clicked through the app again.

“How does Kazakhstan sound?”, he glanced sideways at the kid who looked up at him in surprise.

“Far away,” was the only reply he got.

* * *

Thankfully, the kid had been prepared and brought a passport with him. Once they were cleared through bag check and into Duty Free, Kyungsoo made a point of decking both boys in the clothing that was being sold. The two of them looked like walking adverts for Boston. Kyungsoo had accidentally left the backpack filled with clothes for his son and himself on the bench, but thanked God that Dino had held onto his turtle and that their documents were in a fanny pack on his waist.

The boy was called Joshua, and he had been running all the way from the West Coast when he had come home from school one day to find his family dead and his house ransacked. He had thought the fight was over when he reached Boston, and was worried about finding his way up to Canada or down to Mexico with the meagre funds he had left. Kyungsoo noticed how he flinched whenever anyone threatened to touch him, even by accident, and he wondered if it had anything to do with what had happened to the guard. 

It almost felt like he’d dreamed the whole thing. If he didn’t have Joshua as living, breathing proof, he might have even believed he did. No one seemed to care about the mini earthquake. No planes were grounded, and no one burst through the flight gates searching for the three that gratefully stepped on a plane that would take them as far away as they felt they could go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I've got like 3/4 days left, so you may or may not get another update, depending on how I'm feeling. I know you all wanna know what happened to Sehun, so I thought I'd make you sweat a little longer! Enjoy this wholesome family stuff!


	14. Berlin, January, 2016 #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yo, here's some Chanbaek fluff (no smut because I'm torturing my housemate), but there will be some at some point in the next couple of chapters.

_ Berlin, January, 2016 _

 

“Hyung?”, Baekhyun screeched. “ _ HYUNG?!” _

The tiny place echoed with the panicked noise of Baekhyun trying to pull a shirt over Sehun’s head as he thrashed around. Junmyeon pushed back into the room. He’d only left to grab a comb for the younger man’s hair, and apparently that had been too long. 

Sehun couldn’t deal with very much. He’d become almost normal since showing up at Minseok’s place, but there were certain things that caused him to fly off the rails. Things like feeling confined by a shirt being pulled over his head, even if he was the one to have done it. Baekhyun fighting to get it down only made it worse, and a gale had begun to pick up.

“Sehunnie...shh…” Junmyeon whispered. 

The man’s movements stilled like he was paying attention, and the wind stilled. Junmyeon was the only one who could calm him down. His breathing was still ragged and heavy, but he allowed the older to pull the shirt down and smooth his hands along his face. The panic faded from his eyes as he took in his surroundings, and he blushed.

“Sorry,” he mumbled to the two others. 

Seungcheol came forward warily, a glass of water in his hand.

“Are you okay, Hyung?”

The question was directed at Baekhyun - they all knew Sehun wasn’t okay - but he just looked at the younger man, aghast. This had been his first time dealing with one of these attacks, and he couldn’t believe how utterly terrifying it was, to watch someone so powerful lose control so completely. Baekhyun shook his head and left the apartment, heading into the cold with nothing more than a hoodie and jeans on. He let specks of light filter through one clenched fist, and it lit his way to a park he had discovered when he had first arrived with Yixing and Chanyeol. 

_ Chanyeol _ .

He had been pretty much Baekhyun’s biggest reason to convince Yixing to give him and Jongin a chance. The way he looked at Baekhyun like no one else did. It made him feel a little less lonely in the world, and he knew that the man was behind the reason he smiled so much and so genuinely these last few weeks. Even as he sat on a freezing swing, he smiled to himself.

* * *

It had been rather amazing being  _ mostly  _ back together again. But apparently such a conglomeration of power couldn’t help but be noticed, because Seungcheol had found them. He hadn’t even known he was looking for them, but something in the dead of night woke him and made him leave his home. He had hitch hiked all the way from Belgium, and knocked on the worn door of Minseok’s place - inciting the wrath of the neighbour. It had taken promises that he was a quiet kid (they said he was Minseok’s cousin) and a thick wad of cash to get him to shut up and not go to the landlord with news of how many were staying in the studio. Turns out, the kid was the kind they were looking for. He could sense each and every one of them by their abilities. Even vaguely what they could do. This came in handy since they all agreed it would be best to find kids like them before Juseok and his group did.

The biggest cincher for Yixing were the two boys. Houses ransacked and living on the streets, Yixing had found them huddled together when travelling for work. Their names were Jun and Minghao, and followed him pretty much everywhere he allowed. Both quiet souls, Baekhyun hardly noticed their appearance in the apartment. Seungcheol had been an angel in that regard; he had taken the two boys under his rather louder wing and had kept them out of sight for the first week when Sehun had arrived. Baekhyun knew they mostly wandered the streets of Berlin looking for other children to save before it was too late.

* * *

“Are you cold?”

A voice pulled Baekhyun from his reverie of the new boys. There was someone stood behind him and he didn’t register who at first.

“I’m fine,” he lied.

When Chanyeol came around and knelt in front of him, Baekhyun could have leapt into his arms, but his limbs were so stiff with cold that they couldn’t comply. Others might construe Chanyeol’s position as condescending, but Baekhyun knew his boyfriend, and wasn’t surprised when he took his freezing hand in his own. Chanyeol’s hands were  _ always  _ warm. It was like the flames that he could produce heated him from the inside.

“That explains a lot about you then,” Chanyeol chuckled.

Baekhyun glanced down at him sharply, having not realised he’d spoken aloud.

“What?”

“When you smile...I don’t know...it’s like a light.”

Both of them blushed, and Chanyeol went back to warming the smaller man. He did this by pulling him to stand and enveloping him in a hug.

“What’re you doing out here? It’s cold,” he stated.

“Sehun had one of his - well, I don’t really know how to say…” 

Baekhyun nuzzled into the taller man’s chest, sticking his still cold hands under his shirt and smirking when Chanyeol flinched as the flesh goosepimpled under his frozen touch.

“Panic attacks.”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to him, you know I won’t let that happen to you, right?” 

Chanyeol’s hands held him tight against his chest and Baekhyun could feel himself melt into the security of the words. But even he knew that it wasn’t a promise Chanyeol could necessarily keep, and he was worried by the way he felt his heart begin to fall for him again. The chances of them all getting out of this alive were slim to none. 

“I’m glad you came back,” he whispered to him. “I missed you.”

“You weren’t alone though,” mumbled the taller into his hair.

“Junmyeon is wrapped up in Sehun, and the younger boys have been wandering around...I felt like the weird older hyung trying to crash the good time. I missed  _ you _ . I missed  _ this. _ ”

Baekhyun would be damned before he admitted the insecurities about his place in the group, his usefulness. And he’d be damned before he asked anyone for a  _ hug _ . Chanyeol just seemed to know when he needed it.

“Well...I’m back, and for the forseeable future...and we’ve got someone you should meet.”

Baekhyun looked up and stepped out of the warm circle of Chanyeol’s arms.

“Yeah? You found another?”

“Yeah, his name’s Mingyu.”

* * *

Seungcheol’s brow crinkled. He had been busy trying to make the new boy feel welcomed when there was a knock on the door of the apartment, and it wasn’t anyone he knew by sense.

“If someone else has found us, we are  _ moving _ ,” grumbled Minseok, trudging to the door.

“C’mon, it’s probably just your super,” countered Yixing.

Seungcheol was so stunned and scared by what he felt on the other side of the door that he couldn’t even move to warn the man as he opened the door. 

He blacked out as the hinges squeaked open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So today, I managed to stay awake ALL day and actually write because I've decided painkillers are a waste of time. There were complications with my surgery, so that means I'll be around and writing this trash for longer than I thought (pros and cons, right?). Hoping you're all having a wonderful holiday and enjoying the gift of the season bestowed upon us by SM - Electric Kiss. And the Universe teasers. Just kill me now so I can die this content. 
> 
> I'm bored about 90% of the time, so hmu on tumblr: bleedinglikeaninkbomb


	15. A NOTE ON WHAT'S GOING ON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a chapter but I feel it needs to be said...

Hello my beautiful readers,

We all are probably aware of the horrendous tragedy that has struck our beautiful community of K-pop.

As is, in deference to the situation and respect for not only Jonghyun and his contribution to the world, but the rest of SHINee and his family and friends, I will not be updating for at least a week. We all know how sporadic I am, but I wanted you to have an actual reason when as far as you all know, I'm just sitting around all day.

That being said, I know this is a very hard time for many. 

IF YOU NEED TO TALK, I AM HERE. We don't even have to talk about your feelings or anything of the sort if you don't want. We can talk about music or movies or what my dog looks like when he's asleep. Just don't struggle alone.

Tumblr: bleedinglikeaninkbomb

Kik: ohdeeritstaffy

(you can also inbox me on here, which is something I only just noticed today, so my apologies to anyone who has messaged me recently)

Please stay safe everyone.

All my love,

Pinepitch


	16. Berlin, January, 2016 #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wow seungcheol does not like josh  
> wow minseok does not like his personal space being invaded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is dedicated to my love, kailogan - i'm sorry it took me six minutes to reply to your text. i miss you.

The door was left hanging open as everyone crowded around Seungcheol. Even the new boy, Mingyu, and the two small Chinese kids crouched nearby, wondering if their hyung was okay. Seungcheol sat up, but that same deathly fear overcame him upon waking.

He scrambled backwards on his hands and whimpered at the three standing in the doorway. Everyone had looked to the boy on the floor, save for Jongin, who was staring at the new arrivals.

“Holy shit…” he whispered.

“Hey! Language!”, was Kyungsoo’s immediate response.

To his credit, Jongin blushed. Kyungsoo pushed into the apartment, carefully giving Joshua a wide berth, but not in a fearful way - more like he was used to it. Dino hovered a little behind Kyungsoo, but he didn’t look afraid, more like his father had told him to stay there. 

For a moment no one said anything. Then Minseok started banging around the apartment, grabbing carrier bags and stuffing them full of the few clothes and possessions they all had.

“What are you doing?” Chanyeol asked.

“We are MOVING!” Minseok cried, louder and clearer than any had heard him as of yet. “We are going somewhere far away, where we can set up our fucking commune of supernatural dickheads that want to save the world, because if I get killed because you wake up the dealer, I’m going to haunt you  _ all _ .”

Junmyeon caught the man as he stomped towards the kitchen, and spun him around.

“Minseok, calm down.”

“Do  _ not  _ tell me to calm down, ‘Myeon! I have been calm since you all started moving in here! This place was too small for one person and now there are eleven! Do you know how many people that is? 1000% more people than this place can fit!”

Everyone stared at the raging man.

Including the ghost in the kitchen that had appeared to him once again. 

“They’re gonna kick you out if you don’t calm down,” Luhan commented.

“It’s my house they can’t do that.” He retorted. Junmyeon looked concerned, but couldn’t see what he was staring at - only knowing it was in Baekhyun’s general direction. 

“Look, now they’re all staring at your crazy-ass, talking to nothing like a mad-man. Who wants a mad-man around?”

“UGH! JUST FUCK OFF ALREADY!” He roared at the space just to the left of Baekhyun.

His next move, what was always his next move, was to yank his arm free and rush out of the apartment to find something to dull the noise in his head. He felt icicles brush across the roof of his mouth, flutter down to his fingertips.

“Minseok, what the fuck?!” Baekhyun followed him as he darted past the newcomers and down the stairs, but Minseok wasn’t interested in listening, and jumped down the stairwell like he’d been practicing parkour for the last seven years. Maybe he had, none of them knew, really.

 

Baekhyun wandered back into the apartment, concerned and confused, biting a lip. Chanyeol took his hand when he re-entered, and it felt like an electric shock that restarted his heart.

“Have a seat,” Junmyeon sighed, gesturing to the ratty sofa. Dino and Kyungsoo sat, but Joshua hovered uncertainly. 

“He needs to leave,” A recovering Seungcheol spat at Joshua. 

Joshua cowered back towards the door, and Dino was on his feet in a moment. 

“Leave him alone! He’s just a little different!”

“Dino! Sit down!” Kyungsoo commanded. “Josh, would you like to sit down or stay there?”

Dino sat back down, glaring at Seungcheol.

“Here, please.” Joshua replied in a small voice.

Kyungsoo nodded in acceptance. He looked around at the devastation Minseok had created.

“So, uh, you found us…can I ask how?” Yixing asked, sitting cross-legged in front of the sofa.

“Later, when Minseok is back - Jesus, it’s been so long, I can’t believe we’re all here.”

“Almost.” Jongin said. “We haven’t been able to get hold of Jongdae. Anyway, uh, care to introduce us to your small posse?”

Kyungsoo nodded. He put a proud hand on his back.

“This is Chan, but I call him Dino…he’s an earth-mover like me. He’s my son.” 

The whole room took a breath. Even the two silent Chinese boys seemed to understand the gravity of the adults’ thoughts and inhaled sharply along with the rest. 

“Y-your son?” Chanyeol asked, peering at the boy. “He doesn’t look like you.”

“Takes after his mother.” Was the short reply.

“Damn, ’Soo, you move  _ quickly _ ! What, he’s, like, five or six?” Baekhyun asked with a smile.

“Six. And it’s not like that.” Kyungsoo sighed and gestured to the other boy he had brought with him. “That’s Josh - and I’m asking you now not to get too near him, it makes him scared because - ”

“He can control death.” Whispered Seungcheol.

Joshua looked at him sharply.

“I can’t control it.” Josh said in reply. “But yeah.” 

“If you say so.” Seungcheol raised an eyebrow.

The adults watched the standoff between the two.

“Um, so Dino, these are those friends from when I was young.” Kyungsoo diffused some tension by changing the topic. “That’s Chanyeol and Baekhyun, they can wield fire and light, Junmyeon over there has water, Yixing has the ability to heal, and Sehun can use the wind. Jongin, if I remember, can teleport. I don’t know about these kids though.” 

Yixing pointed out each kid as he answered in kind, “Jun can read people’s minds, and Minghao can speak to you through your head. They’re both a bit quiet for it… Seungcheol here found us actually - he can sense when power amalgamates in someone, hence knowing about, uh, Josh. And…Cheol, you haven’t yet explained what Mingyu can do.”

Seungcheol smiled at Yixing. “He’s beautiful.”

Everyone else in the room looked confused, like they couldn’t decide if he was just making a statement about the tall boy in the corner or if he was giving them a hint.

Seungcheol sighed heavily and dramatically.

“He’s preternaturally beautiful. As far as I can figure, if you get too close, he literally dazzles you until you can’t think. It’s something about his sweat or something.”

“That’s fucking weird.” Baekhyun commented.

Kyungsoo gave him a sharp look for his language.

“Yeah, because the rest of us are the epitome of normal.” Chanyeol snorted. Then he turned serious, “but I think Minseok was right - we should move. This many of us in one place is a bad idea, not to mention really uncomfortable.”

Jongin fidgeted, “I’d like to stick around until I find Jongdae…”

“You won’t find him.” Kyungsoo supplied.

“Why?”

“Because he’s dead.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "jongdae can't come to the phone right now. why? because he's DEAD"
> 
> i'm backkkkkk  
> againnnnnn  
> writing to you from my bathroom floor in the USA and missing kailogan. also weather that isn't hot as the devil's ballsack.   
> i have an entire plan for this fic now yayyyy - fair warning once it's done i may edit the frack outta it :D but for now, love. also sorry this took like seven months to write and all you got was this shit.  
> \- Pinepitch


	17. Edinburgh, February, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minseok and Sehun have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: References to sugar baby lifestyle/underage destitution and prostitution. Drugs, ghosts.
> 
> This is just an exposition...

**_Almaty, 2 weeks ago_ **

 

_“Tell them I’m dead.”_

_Jongdae’s expression was hard, his hand closed over a book._

_“They’ll need you, they’ll need what you can do.”_

_“I can’t control it anymore than I could seven years ago, they don’t need that. And I don’t need another death on my conscience.”_

_Kyungsoo sighed. He had found his friend in a library, thumbing through stacks of foreign languages. Jongdae looked different than he had seven years ago. There were lines on his face, like he was ageing prematurely, and his fingertips were singed black. He wore translucent gloves to touch the manuscripts._

_He could hear Dino chattering away to Joshua behind him. The older boy was unexpectedly smitten with Dino’s confidence, and stuck as close to him as he comfortably could._

_“You need to leave, Kyungsoo. Take your son, and take the other boy, and go. Find the others if you will - they’re in Berlin, but don’t force me to go.” Jongdae still hadn’t met Kyungsoo’s eyes, but his hands began to shake. “If I were you though, I’d keep moving. Buy a car, and just drive. Never stop, and never slow down.”_

_“If they really plan on ending it though…the world could be safer.” Kyungsoo glanced at his son who was now trying to sound out the foreign Russian alphabet._

_“Suicide is hardly likely to be safer.”_

 

**Edinburgh, February, 2016**

 

Sehun still hadn’t gone in the house. He sat outside with Minseok, who was coming down from a high and smoking a cigarette.

“You shouldn’t take drugs. They mess with us.” Sehun said.

“You should try not being supernatural for a few hours. It’s nice.” Minseok replied.

He pulled out another cigarette and lit it, handing it to the younger man. Sehun looked sceptical before taking it. He inhaled smoothly and Minseok raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve smoked before.” It wasn’t a question.

Sehun shrugged.

“Tom smoked cigars whenever there was something to be celebrated. I smoked with him.”

Tears came to Sehun’s eyes when he spoke about Tom, but the panic attacks didn’t consume him anymore. Instead, he felt a cool wave wash over him, like the water in the fountain near Junmyeon’s apartment. He focussed on this. Sometimes when it was especially bad, he would think about the way Junmyeon’s hand would fit between his shoulder blades, calming him before he even knew he was stressed.

“Can I ask you something?” Minseok asked.

Sehun shrugged, swallowing back the tears.

“So you lived with that guy, Tom, and he…what, kept you?”

Sehun barked out a laugh.

“Not like a pet. I was - I was fourteen when we left the compound, Minseok. You were an adult, you could get a job and a house, and _live_.” 

“Kyungsoo-“

“Kyungsoo met a nice family and got a girl pregnant. I bet if you asked, he’d say never wanted to be a dad at fifteen. It doesn’t mean Dino isn’t the best thing that ever happened to him, but - I don’t know…You all had this great idea that it would be best to split up, but in most places you can’t make a living if you’re under sixteen. We had no paperwork, no money, nothing.”

Minseok stared at the youngest member of the original experiments and tried to imagine what it had been like. 

“I followed Chanyeol and Jongin as far as Boston. Then I headed North, towards Maine. I got the ticket by stealing money. Do you know what that’s like? Joining a world you have no experience of and immediately being a criminal? Tom found me…and he - he took me in. I would have followed him anywhere. Regardless of what he wanted. He was a good man, Kim Minseok…but most people wouldn’t see our relationship, our age difference, as something good.”

Minseok couldn’t find the words to reply. He dragged on the cigarette in his mouth and trained his eyes forward.

“You miss him.” He stated bluntly.

“And you miss Jongdae.” Sehun replied.

Minseok felt Luhan walk up behind him. He felt someone else join him, but he couldn’t bear to look.

“The fact that he never made it back to us haunts me.” Was the whispered response. “We should probably get this over with and head inside - at least we all have  little more elbow room.”

Sehun nodded, but his mouth twisted into a sour pucker. 

“I think I’ll stay out here for a while…just…it’s a little much.”

“I’ll sit with you until you’re ready.” Minseok replied, settling back and lighting up another cigarette.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright my dudes! I just thought I'd insert a lil bit of exposition. I'm swamped this week - I'm in the US looking after family and just turned 21, so the celebrations are still winding down. Next week I'll hopefully be in another location and have more time to write.
> 
> Kailogan - this is for you, for the angst I can't seem to avoid - a practically angst free chapter. Sorry if I don't message you back, it's bc I need wi-fi and I move aroubnd a lot. I LOVE YOU


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